Where the Staircase Ends(11)

“Give me a cigarette,” I said to Sunny after pushing my way through the circle of guys orbiting around her.

“Jeez, bossy. How about at least saying ‘please?’” She handed me one of her Camels, and I noticed she teetered a bit on her stool. “Did you find him or what?”

“I saw Mark Schroen, Greg Younger, and some other guys from school come in a few minutes ago. He’s got to be with them.”

Sunny made a face when I mentioned Mark Schroen. She would never refer to him as her ex-boyfriend, but it was obvious from the way she glanced at him in the hallways that their so-called summer fling was more than a fling.

“Ugh, don’t talk to that douche. He’s about as interesting as a bag of rocks.” She waved her hand dismissively, sliding off the stool as she did.

“Maybe you should lay off the shots for a while. You have to drive me home.”

“Maybe you should spend less time bossing me and more time stalking your prey, stalker.” She looked at one of her admirers and fake-whispered into his ear while pointing at me, “She’s a total stalker.”

“Seriously, Sunny,” I said after listening to the way she slurred out the word stalker. I didn’t want it to be another one of those nights. “Cool it on the drinks for a bit.”


“Who died and turned you into Alana James?” she said, referencing one of her favorite classmates to torment. Alana was harmless, but therein laid the dig. I was not in the mood to be compared to someone Sunny thought of as boring. My face must have looked stricken, because Sunny flipped her hair back and gave me an encouraging smile. “Don’t forget that cigarette move I taught you. Gets the boys every time.”

The unlit cigarette was perched in my fingers as I made my way through the crowd. My plan was simple: bump into Justin, ask him for a light, and execute the Sunny sex-glare. But when I got to where the guys from my school were standing, Justin was nowhere to be found.

“Hey, Taylor!” Mark Schroen shouted to me over the music. “What are you doing here?”

“I was about to ask you the same question!” I shouted back, not wanting to give away the truth—I overheard him talking to Justin about their plans to come to the concert. “I came with Sunny,” I added, so he would know I wasn’t alone. He followed my gaze to the bar and rolled his eyes when he caught sight of her whispering into the ear of one of her potential suitors.

“Need a light?” Someone's breath touched my neck, and I turned to see Logan Emery standing inches away from me with a lighter in his outstretched hand.

I stared at him for a moment, completely at a loss for words. I hadn’t seen him outside of school since before his brother’s accident. It was like seeing a ghost.

“Um, well, I, um … sure,” I finally said, not able to come up with a valid way to explain why I was holding an unlit cigarette if I didn’t want a light. If I’d been quicker on my feet I could have slipped the cigarette behind my ear and claimed to be saving it for later. Instead, I blew my chance at sex-glaring Justin because I was too shocked at Logan’s appearance to think straight.

He clicked the lighter to life, and I bent over the flame, gently touching his hand to steady it.

“Thanks.” I tipped my head up as I exhaled so I wouldn’t blow smoke in his face. “You haven’t by any chance seen Justin Cobb, have you?” I wouldn’t dare ask Mark the question, but I didn’t think Logan and Justin were good friends, making him the least risky interrogation option.

He shook his head. “Why, are you guys supposed to meet up or something?”

“No!” There was more force behind my voice then I intended. “I mean, no,” I repeated more softly. “He mentioned he might come, so I was curious if he came with you guys. That’s all.”

“You’re in my Spanish class,” he said after studying me for a few moments, his mouth closer to my ear than I was comfortable with. I nodded and faced the stage, not sure what else to say to him. “You’re pretty good. It’s my second time taking the class, and I still can’t manage to conjugate my verbs.”

I blinked a few times, surprised by his open admission to being held back a year. I picked at my nail polish and offered him my cigarette.

“Thanks.” His fingers brushed against mine as he took it from me. “It’s okay if you want to ask about it. Everyone else does.”

I turned to look at him, watching the way the stage lights danced across his face, changing from blue to red to yellow and back again. He was out in public on a Friday night, so he must be doing better. But there was still something sad hiding behind his gray eyes.

“Do you miss him?” I asked.

“Yeah. Every day.” His voice was flat, but he offered me a small smile. “I didn’t really want to come back to school after it happened. I was really angry, you know? I was pissed at myself for letting him get behind the wheel of his car, and pissed that the universe was screwed up enough to take away my brother. But I’m better now. I still miss him, but I’m better.”

We watched the band in silence for a while, mostly because I couldn’t think of anything else to say.

I couldn’t remember what Logan had been like before the accident—he was a year ahead of me, so our paths rarely crossed—but I couldn’t forget what he was like after. I’d witnessed a few of his infamous hallway scuffles before he was finally suspended from school. Sometimes all it took was a sideways glance from someone and he’d launch into an attack, slamming bodies against lockers or pummeling people with his fists. But seeing him now, his face relaxed and thoughtful, it was hard to imagine the temper-filled version of him from the previous year.